“Only two that matter.”
I finished shaving him, then straightened, meeting his guarded gaze on me.
“I’m surprised any enemy of yours remains breathing,” I said casually as I discarded the razor and grabbed a hand towel to wipe any remains of shaving cream.
My fingers trailed lower to his ribs that were free of tattoos, only smooth, tanned skin.
“One day,” he murmured, then kissed me, lightly nipping my bottom lip and leaving me breathless. He pulled back, then ran a thumb across my cheek. “I like you in my home.”
My chest warmed. I scooted closer to him, feeling his hard-on and that familiar ache settled between my thighs. I leaned forward, my lips parting his and his tongue brushed against mine.
“I want you again,” I breathed as a shiver rolled down my spine.
“Insatiable,” he stated, his voice hoarse.
Before I could process what was happening, he pushed inside me so deeply that a gasp tore from my throat.
This time he fucked me slow and long, our lips inches apart. He thrust deep inside of me, his fist in my hair, holding me in place. It made this feel more intimate and raw. Exposed.
“You’re my fucking property,” he rasped into my ear and my chest blossomed. “I’m going to ruin you for any other man.” My body shuddered with his lips pressed against my ears, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “Your cunt is strangling my dick. My personal heaven.”
It was all it took for my body to unravel and pleasure to burst through me. I’d never be able to get this man out of my system. Not with his dirty words ringing in my ears. Not with the craving I felt deep inside me.
Afterwards, he carried me to bed and we talked about plans. His. Mine. Ours. He’d meet me in each country, take me to dinner. We’d visit a temple. Anything I wanted, he said.
“Alessio?”
“Hmmm.”
“I don’t think we should say anything to Branka,” I whispered. I kneeled between his open legs and sensed him tense. My hands reached out to cup his cheeks. “It’s not what you think.” When his brows shot up, I explained. “I don’t want Branka to think she’s going to have less of you or less of me.”
I had no idea if I was making sense. But he nodded.
“Okay.” But something in his gaze told me he wasn’t happy about it.
He shifted off the bed while I remained in my spot, wrapped up in the comforter and watching him get dressed. I found his every move sexy and so goddamn fascinating.
When he reached for his signature coal black suit, I stopped him. “Wear jeans.” His hand froze midair and his eyes of stormy clouds met mine. He cocked an eyebrow as if he expected an explanation.
“Your butt looks good in them,” I added, smiling and ogling his ass.
In his powerful stride, he walked over to his closet and dug out a pair of jeans and put them on.
“These okay?” he asked, a hint of humor in his voice.
I grinned. “Much better.”
He shook his head, letting out a sardonic breath between his teeth. Maybe he thought I was ridiculous. But then, he was appeasing me so it couldn’t be so.
Next, he slid on a T-shirt. Watch followed.
I never thought watching a guy put a watch on would be sexy, but with Alessio Russo it was. His hands were as sexy as the rest of him and I couldn’t get enough of them. My eyes flickered to his face to find him watching me.
“What?” I asked him.
The devastatingly gorgeous smile that spread on his face made something hot and hesitant flicker to life in my stomach and my chest. I desperately wanted him to kiss me again. He was like a magnet, like an addiction, that I couldn't get enough of and I wasn’t sure that it’d bode well for me.
He took five long strides and was back by the bed. As he sat down, the mattress tilted and rolled me over to him and his arms came around me.